Strike the Death Bells: 622 to 644
by Lightning at Noon
Summary: (SYOT CLOSED) The Capital was eagerly awaiting its twenty-eighth Victor. But the people in the districts were preparing to send off victims 622 through 644 and the one tribute lucky enough to survive. Because for every Victor, there are 23 dead children. And those 23 all have a different story but the same ending - horrible death. And they never know when it'll strike.
1. Prologue

**I've always wanted to try out a SYOT, so here it goes.**

* * *

Head Gamemaker Irving Redstone smiles as he walks down the Hall of Victors. There are twenty-seven faces staring down at him: the twenty-seven past winners of the annual Hunger Games.

'My games will determine the twenty-eighth face on the wall,' he thinks to himself. He smiles as he sees last year's Victor, beautiful Sapphire Cyrus from District 1. He hopes his victor will be as beautiful as she is. Then he sees Antony Vesuvius of District 2 and thinks it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have a strong, confident young man as a Victor.

As he walks past Jasper Cutter of District 7, he remembers what an exciting year that was. The years an outlying district wins are always full of suspense. He smiles as he sees Hunter Raymond of District 12, the Victor of the Twelfth Games and the first he was old enough to watch. She was a killer with her knives and made such a excellent show.

He had been working around the clock on an arena unlike any the Capital had seen before to put on a show like that. He was confident he would shock even the President with his work. He was just giddy to find out who would be competing and more exciting, who would be crowned the Victor.

'My Victor will definitely earn his or her spot here,' he tells himself , imagining all the praise he will get in the Capital following his Games. Oh, he can't wait.

But all Head Gamemaker Redstone sees are the Victors and the glory. He doesn't see that behind each Victor he admires are 23 dead children. No one in the Capital sees it.

So while the Capital is preparing for victor number twenty-eight, the districts are preparing for victims number 622 through 644.

* * *

Tributes of the 28th Annual Hunger Games

District One:

male - Glitz Goldstone ( Anthonykeith )

female- Emerald Clinton ( TheGirlWhoCan'tLetGo )

District Two:

male - Ekon Dodson ( SavGrasso )

female- Aurora Chase ( Lost Daughter of Gallifrey )

District Three:

male - Bryce Stone ( Anthonykeith )

female- Selita Cyrus ( xSecretAngelx )

District Four:

male - Phoenix Volney ( PenMagic )

female- Coral Tanner ( Cheerxoxo )

District Five:

male - Eli York ( ToniMarks )

female- Eboni Mullins ( SavGrasso )

District Six:

male - Blaise Road ( xBrightxStarx )

female- Madison "Maddie" Rogers ( PenMagic )

District Seven:

male - Corander "Andy" Miller ( RaeofSunshyn )

female- Heather Brimstone ( Cheerxoxo )

District Eight:

male - Zane Harrison ( xSecretAngelx )

female- Ella Carter (Icebreeze of ThunderClan )

District Nine:

male - Hayseed Knox ( Danny Barefoot )

female- Barley Rogan ( Danny Barefoot )

District Ten:

male - Ray Ashton ( VanessaandEllieTheVamps )

female- Katalina "Kat" Pollak ( VanessaandEllieTheVamps )

District Eleven:

male - Tobias Prior ( Bookworm3616 )

female- Alyss Morgan ( Bookworm3616 )

District Twelve:

male -Owen Raymond ( ToniMarks )

female- Brook Keller ( artist-in-the-tardis )

* * *

Form for the Tributes

Please send in a PM. Can, at most, submit two.

(after you send in the form, the character belongs to me. Please don't be mad at any changes to you character – made for the purpose of the storyline – or anything that happens to your character - as they will most likely die)

Name:

District:

Gender:

Age:

Appearance:

Personality:

Any Skills that might help them:

History:

Reaped/Volunteered (remember, only the Careers usually volunteer):

Token:

Any interesting facts you'd like me (the author) to know:

* * *

**I will still be dedicating most of my time to _Seen It All_, but I would like something a little easier to write to help with any writer's block I may encounter.**

**Please send in tributes!**


	2. District 4 Reaping

**SYOT is still open!**

**Whenever I have both the male and female tributes, I will post their District Reaping. Eventually, I'll put them in District order. At this point, District 11 will probably be next.**

* * *

**District 4 Reaping**

* * *

**Phoenix Volney – District 4 Male**

* * *

I hear the bell that signals the rising of the tide. Its long, pealing sound wakes me.

"Shit," I say to myself as I try to jump out of bed. My feet get tangled in the sheets, and I end up falling over the side and slamming in to the floor.

"Nix," calls my mom up to me, "are you alright?"

I curse again as I get off the floor, tugging on a pair of jeans.

"Yeah mom, I'm cool. I'll be down as soon as I get dressed," I say as I call down. But really, falling out the of the bed on the day of the Reaping; now, that's bad luck. Not that I necessarily believe in bad luck, but it's still pretty shitty.

I tug on a shirt, one of my clean ones because it is Reaping Day after all. I look at the pull-up bar hanging in my doorway, and I consider just going down to eat breakfast but that isn't what got me where I am. I reach up to the bar and take a deep breath and start.

"One, two, three," I whisper to myself. Soon I can't whisper anymore as all my breath is going to my muscles. I reach about fifteen, and that's when my arms really start to burn. I get a couple more in before I fall to the ground.

I shake the lactic acid out of my arms as I walk down the stairs. I do a quick double take as I see my dad sitting there. He's usually out on the dock or at sea at this time, even if it's Reaping Day.

"I have to see you off," he says, obviously understanding my look. And there's my dad – simple and straightforward. He got us out of the poorer side of the district into our current, beautiful two-story house between the docks and the town square.

A silence descends on the table as I think we all think about the last time we all ate breakfast together: six years ago on the morning of Aleah's Reaping. Well not so much a reaping but her volunteering.

My mom looks slightly pale as she scopes scrambled eggs onto my plate. She's probably seeing Aleah screaming under the Victor, some girl from District 1, who slowly cut her up. I see it at night sometimes but not in the same way as my mom. I no longer see Aleah's face but the power of the District 1 girl. And man, do I see blood.

"Oh Nix," asks my mom as she finally sits down to eat with me and Dad, "are you really going to volunteer?"

I chew my eggs especially slowly; we've had this conversation several times already.

"Yes Mom, I volunteering," I tell her – again - "Mags says I have the best shot of winning out of anyone she's trained. I've got to."

"But Nix, can't you wait another year. I can't -"

"Lula," cuts in my dad, " Phoenix is old enough to make this decision as was Aleah. If Mags said he's ready, he's ready. You know she'll do anything to get him out after six years ago."

I see my mom brush a tear from her eye and for a second I reconsider my idea to volunteer. But I'm not just volunteering because Mags thinks I can win it. I'm volunteering because there's a darker side of me that is fascinated by blood, a part that loves the way it beads on people's skin, a part that loves how blood leaving the body causes so much pain. It's been a part of me since Aleah's death, and I'm about to let it loose.

* * *

**Coral Tanner – District 4 Female**

* * *

"I've got to get going," says my aunt. "The prep team will want me looking presentable. Lord knows I'm just getting older to make their job harder. Make sure you're ready for the Reaping soon. No prep team for you, but you still have to look nice."

"I will, Auntie Mags," I tell her. She kisses me on the forehead and leaves me in the house by myself.

I've lived here as long as I can remember. I had apparently been born to some girl who had been reaped shortly after my first birthday. Whenever I tell people Mags isn't my real aunt, they get all sad and apologize about my mother. I used to feel terrible because I didn't miss her; I mean, I never really knew her. Mags says that I got my height – or lack of height – and green eyes from her.

So having a mother that died in the Games, I naturally didn't tell Mags I was going to volunteer. And eighteen year old, Mystic somebody-or-other, was chosen to volunteer, but I talked her out of it. This was my year, and I was going to be the youngest Victor yet at just over fifteen. I was going to make a name for myself.

I grab a granola bar from the counter and sneak up to Mags' room. I've never actually been in her room before but I know she keeps her old dresses from her tribute days up here. All the dresses I have make me look small and breakable, and I can't look breakable for the Reaping. I need something that makes me look older and possible seductive.

There's no one in the house but me, but I make sure I glide silently across the floor and open the door without a sound. One more silent footfall, and I'm in Mags' room. And I'm slightly disappointed it looks like a normal room; I was totally expecting something a lot cooler or more mysterious.

She has a huge walk-in closet, and it takes me a while to find her Game's dresses. A lot are too …. too Capital for a district Reaping. One has too many sequins, and one is a little too shear even for my taste. Towards the back I see one that was probably from her Victory Tour or something else because I don't think they had Victory Tours back then.

As I slip on the dress, I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize it fits. The blue shimmery material is a little longer down my leg than it should be, but this is District 4 not the Capital. It's just low enough for my chest that I don't look slutty, but I also don't look like a little girl. So really, it's perfect.

Next, I go in Mags' bathroom and put on some of her makeup. She is always telling me about the excess and overindulgence of the Capital and how wrong their lifestyle is, but she can't seem to get over their love of makeup – she's always wearing at least a little whenever we go to market. Like before, a little eyeliner and blush is enough to make me look older than fifteen.

I twirl in front of her full length mirror, and I'm so excited. This will be the day I shock everyone. Little tiny Coral, that daughter of the poor tribute and Mags' baby orphan, is going to volunteer. Oh, they'll never see it coming.

* * *

**Phoenix Volney – District 4 Male**

* * *

I meet up with Josah at the corner of my street. Our fathers work together now, but the two of us have been training together since we could first hold a trident.

"Hey Nix," he calls out, throwing me into a hug – a manly hug, mind you – and slamming me on the back. "Today's the big day, ain't it, buddy?"

I know Josah well enough to tell that he's nervous for me. He's been training to and knows that I'm the best, but there is still the other tributes and the Gamemaker's mutts that no amount of training can prepare you for. But I also know the best way to relax him is to pretend nothing is wrong.

"Yeah man," I tell him as we start walking towards the square. "You want an autograph from the amazing Phoenix Volney, Victor of the 28th Hunger Games," I joke, booming out the last part in my fake Capital accent. A couple younger kids around us start to laugh, and I even see Josah crack a smile.

"Where's the brother?" I ask.

"He's with Mother. He's twelve now, and he wanted Mother to help him."

"You know I'll be volunteering," I tell him, slapping him on the back. "Baby Jeremiah will be safe for another year."

He's obviously torn between loosing his brother or his best friend but a couple more jokes and he's laughing like a normal day.

His shoulders get less tense, and we banter lightly back and forth for a little longer. But as we get closer to the square, even our banter peters out. There's always a somber mood in the square; we might be a Career district, but at least one kid is going to die, and you can't really ignore that.

"May the odds be ever in you favor," calls out Mr. Marshall from his shop window.

"Thank you, sir," I call out to him. "I certainly hope they are."

A couple other people wish me good luck and favorable odds as me and Josah approach where we have to stand. They know I'm going to volunteer; I'm sure they're wishing Mystic good luck too. They want a Victor. It's been seven years since Arch won, and they're all waiting for the next one.

I see a couple of the younger boys looking at me, and I think I recognize them from the training center. I give them a wave and the smirk I've been practicing for moments like this. One waves back and tries to copy my smile, and I'm sure he's now going to throw himself into training so he can volunteer one day like me. Maybe I would've felt I made him throw his life away a couple days ago but not anymore. As the Peacekeeper pricks my finger, I slowly feel myself slipping away and becoming darker.

I think Josah sees the look in my eyes because he just nods to me and goes to join the eighteen year olds at the front. I go to join my age group, and the kids around me give me space – they know I'm volunteering.

One boy nudges me with his arm. "This whole thing is a little nerve-wracking, isn't it?" he asks me. I stare him down, and I notice he's one of the boys they ship here from the other villages down the coast. He doesn't know who I am, but he slowly backs away. Maybe a month ago I would've hated scaring him but now it brings me a sick sense of pride.

'I'm ready,' I think, 'let this Reaping begin.'

* * *

**Coral Tanner – District 4 Female**

* * *

The girls around me in the square are a nervous, fidgety bunch. The one to my left is so worried that she'll get reaped, and Mystic will forget to volunteer. The girl on my right is worried that her boyfriend will get reaped, and Phoenix won't volunteer. She doesn't have to worry about not having a female volunteer, and I've seen Phoenix this morning – he definitely looks the part.

It takes the Mayor's speech to finally get them to shut up. He reads the Treaty of Treason and shows the video; most of the adults in the crowd go white at the video – they still remember the Dark Days and many saw firsthand what's in the video. Mags told me about seeing the Battle of the Docks and the bombs falling on her village. But to me, it's just a boring video that I have to wait through.

But then our escort walks onto the stage. It's a man this year – at least I think it's a man. Even when he talks, I can't possibly be sure. Maybe if I I could actually see over the older kids in front of me, I could tell. I can see him (or her) walk over the the giant bowl holding thousands of slips of paper. I'm practically shaking – with excitement – while the girls beside me are shaking with fear.

"Our female tribute is Shelby Rider," he – and now I'm sure it's a he – announces.

The crowd is silent as a thirteen year old walks to the stage. I'm sure people are wondering why Mystic hasn't volunteered yet, and Shelby looks like she is about to cry. One of the girls next to me sinks to the ground, and I'd bet that's her sister.

Shelby reaches the first step to the platform when I decide I'll have enough attention on me. And really, little Shelby is probably scarred for the rest of her life.

"I volunteer," I shout and step around the crying girl next to me. "I volunteer as tribute."

As I walk down the isle, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I try to put a little sway in my hips and a swagger in my walk. I want to look fearless, but the almost-tribute makes me look foolish as she nearly knocks me over as she runs and gives me a hug.

"Thank you, thank you," she cries to me, wrapping herself around my body.

I regain my balance, and I lean down – though not much - and give her a small hug. "You're welcome," I whisper in her ear, "but I'm not doing this to save you. This is for me."

* * *

**Phoenix Volney – District 4 Male**

* * *

The Peacekeeper's have to pull Shelby Rider off the girl who volunteered. I'm filled with relief at the look of the volunteer; she's no Mystic and looks like I could easily step on her. There's one tribute I shouldn't have to worry about.

"And what is your name, darling?" asks the escort.

"Coral Tanner," she announces, her voice stronger than I would've expected from someone her size. Maybe I will have to watch out for her. Or maybe I'll have to kill her myself at the beginning to avoid that situation.

"You're Mags' little girl, aren't you?" he asks.

I can see anger flash in the girl's eyes, and I can tell she doesn't like the question.

Wait, she's Mags' little orphan.

"Yes, she's my aunt," she replies, her voice showing no emotion. "She's taught me everything I know."

And now I'm angry. If Mags is mentoring this year, she'll give all her attention to this little runt. It doesn't matter if my sister died six years ago because basically her child is going to die this year. Maybe I shouldn't volunteer this year and wait for next year. My mom would love it, and I wouldn't have to go against Mags' darling prodigy.

"Well, well, well," says the Escort, "I hope our male tribute is just as exciting. Let's find out who he is now."

I'm not going to volunteer. I'll wait till next year when my chances are better. Mags' will understand; she wouldn't want me killing her child.

The Escort sticks his hand in the bowl and picks a slip from the bottom.

"Our male tribute for this year is Jeremiah Break," he announces.

Josah's brother slowly leaves the twelve year old sections and looks directly at me. Josah would kill me if I didn't volunteer. There would be no one to take my place and Jeremiah would go into the Games.

Just as he walks past me, I let my anger at Coral and Mystic flow. Phoenix Volney who help his father carry heavy crates and walked with Josah and Jeremiah to school was no more; this was Phoenix Volney who could kill as easily as breathe.

"I volunteer," I shout and push my way out of my section.

I looked dangerous, and I knew it. I walked shoulder's back up to the stage and stared down at the audience as I turned around.

"And who are you, young man," asks the Escort, holding the microphone up to my face.

"Phoenix Volney," I tell him.

The little Capital man scoots a little away from me, likely a little nervous because I'm a good half foot taller than him.

"Here are our tributes from District 4 for the 28th Annual Hunger Games: Coral Tanner and Phoenix Volney!"

* * *

**Coral Tanner – District 4 Female**

* * *

We're forced to shake hands, and I think Phoenix is trying to break all my fingers. If looks could kill, I'm sure I would be dead because the look in his eyes is nothing but pure hatred. He's a good foot taller than me, and I'm sure I'm going to need to make sure to stay away from him after the Career alliance breaks.

Then we're shoved into the Justice Building for goodbyes. I sit down on the plush couch and wait for Mags to come in furious.

Surprisingly it's Titian, the mayor's son. I've talked to him before, but we're not really friends; I don't have too many of those.

"Hey Coral," he says, standing a little awkwardly in the doorway.

I realize he's waiting for me to invite him in, so I do and scotch over on the couch to make room for him.

"My dad keeps all the tokens of the tributes who don't make it," he tells me, looking at his hands. That's when I realize they're clashed shut, and he's holding something. "This was your mother's token, and I thought you might want it now."

He silently hands me a necklace and slips out of the room quickly like he's afraid I'll blow up on him. Whatever.

I hold the necklace up, and I see it's a small shell on a long silver chain. It's pretty, really. It didn't bring my mother any luck, but it might bring me some, so I slip it over my head.

Just as I fix my blonde hair that got caught under the chain, Mags walks in. And she doesn't look furious but afraid.

"Why did you volunteer?" she demands, sitting beside me. "Mystic was going to, but she said you talked her out of it. You're too young, Coral. No one under sixteen has ever won it. I've already lost to many people I care about," she says, putting her head in her hands. I think she's crying.

"Auntie," I tell her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "I need to prove myself. I can't be your little orphan girl forever. And you can help me. I can win, I know I can."

"I'm not mentoring this year," she says between sobs. "Arch and Peixe are. I've already watched too many of my friends die. I can't watch you too."

It's literally so hard not to cry. "You won't have to watch me die," I tell her, "I'll be coming home, and we'll have houses side by side."

"You already have a Victor's house," she tells me, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking into my eyes. "You have my house, why isn't that enough?"

I look over her shoulders – I can't bare to look in her eyes. "I need something that I've earned myself. Everything I do has been in your shadow, and I need to get out of it."

She just shakes her head and cries. By the time the Peacekeepers come to collect her, she's still crying.

"I still love you, Auntie," I tell her as she leave the room. "And I will be coming back home. I swear on it."

* * *

**Phoenix Volney – District 4 Male**

* * *

I sit in the room, alone. I told Josah not to say goodbye because I'd be back. The idea of these goodbyes makes everything seem so final, and I wasn't final.

I has asked my parents not to come either, but I knew they would anyway. They had lost Aleah, and they refused to let me go before the last possible second they had to.

"You can do it, son," Dad tells me when the Peacekeepers let them in. He's standing stiffly in front of me, practically holding Mom up. "Don't let Mags' little girl stop you. When the time comes for you to split with the Career pack, let someone else pick her off if she's still alive. There's no honor in killing your partner."

I nod, but I'm not going to the Games for honor. I'm going for blood.

"Don't be a monster," says Mom. I get up from my couch and hug both my mom and dad. "I want my baby boy back," she cries, "not some Capital mutt."

I take a deep breathe and pat her on the back. I'll be coming back, but I won't be the baby boy she knows; I'll be the twisted killer inside of me that is fascinated by blood. But I'll still be me, so I'm not necessarily lying when I promise her.

"Make the district proud," says my dad. He pulls me into one last hug before he leaves the room with Mom clinging on him.

Oh, I will. I will.

* * *

**To Cheerxoxo: I'm sorry, but I had to change a lot of things about Coral. She couldn't really be sweet and innoncent and be a Career tribute, so I tried to show her independence and confidence. And the 28th Hunger Games would be too early for District 4 to have two Victors who could have a child together. So I tried to get as close to that with Mags being her adopted aunt. I keep the same token but switched how she got it.**

**To everyone else: I really hope you enjoyed it. And if you like either of the characters, make sure to review. Their popularity along with their skills will play a large role in their survival. After all the Reapings, I'll have a poll on who everyone wants to win.**

**Remember SYOT is still open, and I need many more tributes!**


	3. District 9 Reaping

**SYOT is still open as of 2/22/14!**

**District 1 is next, and hopefully District 2 will be filled by then, and I'll be able to go in order.**

**And I wasn't expecting this chapter to get so long but it did! I'm falling in love with all these tributes, and I don't know how I'm going to be able to kill any of them. I'll probably be crying at my laptop.**

* * *

**District 9 Reaping**

* * *

**Hayseed Knox – District 9 Male**

* * *

Today's the one day a year I get to sleep in, but Rye seems to want to wake me up anyway.

"Hayseed," he says, nudging me awake. "I can't sleep. I'm so nervous about the Reaping. I'll die if they pick me. I can't be picked."

"Ugh," says my older brother, Agro, "will you two shut up? I'm trying to sleep over here."

I punch him lightly in the shoulder. "Have a heart," I tell him, "it's Rye's first Reaping, and he's nervous. You woke up with me when it was my first Reaping, remember."

Agro rolls over and slowly sits up. "Alright my little bros, let's have a good old fashion heart-to-heart before the sun is up. Might be our last time together in this bed."

Rye literally looks like he's going to cry.

"Agro!" I scold him. "Why would you ever say that?"

He just shrugs."It might be true," he says, "you never know."

But I have a feeling the three of us will be having this same conversation next year but with Agro joking at our misfortune and bragging about all nineteen birthdays he'd had. There are enough kids in District 9 that we all had small odds, but still, any odds at all is still bad.

Rye pulls the covers up his chin and pulls the two of us closer on the mattress we share. "This can't be our last night together. I can't be reaped. The pretty girls will cut me up, and I'll never see you guys again. I can't be taken away."

He obviously thinking of last year's Victor, some beautiful terror from District 1. There's sure to be another one like her this year; there always is from District 1.

"The only beautiful girls who will be around you will be the ones from District 9 when you're older," says Argo, giving Rye a wink that is supposed to make him laugh but only makes him more nervous.

"But what if I never make it to nineteen?" he asks. "What if I get picked this year or in the next seven years? I'll never grow up!"

"Relax," I tell him, bringing him closer to my side. "I've made it through four Reapings already, and Agro has made it through six. We've got ten Reapings between the two of us."

"Yeah," says Agro, obviously getting the message I'm trying to convey to Rye. "If the Capital wanted a Knox brother, they've had their shot ten times. They don't want us."

"But still," whines Rye, "my name – and your names – are in the bowl. There's still a chance."

"Your name's only in the bowl twice," Agro tells him. "You just have tessera for yourself. I've got my name in their 28 times, and Hayseed is in there 20 times. Our neighbors have five kids; imagine how much tessera they've taken. Your odds are so small, they're in your favor. You don't need to worry."

"But what if they pick me anyway," he says, doing his best not to start crying. "Every year there's some twelve year old who get reaped. What if this year it's me?"

"Then we'll beat up the Peacekeepers who are trying to take you away, and we'll run past all the fields into the great beyond," says Agro. I wince a little at the slight jab towards me.

A couple years ago Agro had been caught stealing, and I had unknowingly turned him with some comment I made after work. He was beaten in the town square, and his leg had never fully healed. Agro wouldn't be running anytime soon. If for some reason he was reaped, he'd never make it past the bloodbath, and he knows it.

And I'm sure Rye knows we couldn't run away either, but I think pretending we can is better than nothing, and I'm not about to ruin any kind of comfort we can give him.

"So how about we get our extra hour of sleep?" suggests Agro, laying back down.

"You guys promise I won't get reaped," asked Rye, snuggling down beside Agro.

I let him pull me down next to him. "I promise, little brother," I tell him. "I promise."

* * *

**Barley Rogan – District 9 Female**

* * *

"Barley," shouts my oldest brother, "you'd better get down here this instant! I've seen that candle burning, so I know you're up."

Quickly, I toss the book Miss Greenly let me borrow under my bed. No one in my family likes me reading. 'What use have farmers for books,?' they always tell me, 'when all we've got to know is in our fields?'

And I'm to be a farmer like my parents and their parents before them. The Rogan's family have all been farmers since before the Dark Days and probably since the sun first started rising in the east. They don't get that I don't want to be a farmer; I want to be a teacher. Even Daddy who tells me he loves me doesn't get it. I'd be the best teacher ever. I'd read kids stories, and I wouldn't give them too much homework so they'd still be able to do their chores. They'd call me Miss Rogan, and they'd all love me and love school.

"Barley!" he shouts again. "Quit your day dreamin'. Do ye want breakfast or not?"

Darn it, I must have zoned out again. I quickly run my fingers through my hair and take the steps two at a time. I'm almost downstairs when I find myself falling. I brace myself for impact but a pair of strong arms scoops me up.

"I seem to have caught myself a wee little girlie," says my daddy, picking me up in my arms. "What shall I do with her? Tickle her?"

He blows lightly on the slice of my stomach that's been exposed by my shirt sliding up. I try to keep a straight face, but it's so hard.

"No, no," I shout between the giggles that escape. "Put me down, put me down. I'm not your little girl anymore."

Daddy puts me down – in my chair at the table. He ruffles my hair that I had just unruffled, and kisses me on the head.

"You'll always be my little girlie," he tells me, moving to sit at the head of the table.

"But Daddy," I tell him, "I'm almost fourteen, and I'm taller than Wheaton who's the tallest boy in my class."

"You're still shorter than me," says Reven, my youngest brother who's sixteen.

"And me," adds Maizer.

My oldest brother just scowls and leaves the table to check on our breakfast. He's not tall at all, and no one quite knows why. It's probably why he's such a big jerk – and the fact that since Mommy died, he's had to do the "womanly" tasks instead of me at Daddy's command.

He comes back with a bowl of oatmeal for each of us and basically throws mine at me.

"Harver," scolds Daddy, "what have I told you about being careful with the dishes?"

Harver is practically seething, but he can't stand up to Daddy. "To be very careful with them," he growls at Daddy.

"That's right," says Daddy, either not noticing his tone or just ignoring it. If I had to guess, and I do, I'd say the first.

"Now everyone join hands for Grace," he announces. He reaches and joins hands with me, and I do the same with Reven. We all bow our heads and close our eyes and wait for Daddy to begin.

"Blessed Father," he starts, "I thank you for this meal we're about to enjoy. Let the Reaping spare my children as you chose to spare Isaac. Let us all be able to meet again here tomorrow to offer our never ending thanks to your kindness and forgiveness. Amen."

"Amen," I repeat as do my brothers. Usually the prayer in the calming voice of Daddy calms my nerves, but instead, they begin to go haywire. I forgot today was the Reaping.

* * *

**Hayseed Knox – District 9 Male**

* * *

There's a honking outside, and I quickly grab three slices of toast and smear them with a thin layer of marmalade. I shove both Agro and Rye a slice and jam mine in my mouth as the three of us run out the door.

"We'll get a ride to town later," calls my mother behind us.

"Good luck, boys," shouts my father. The doors slams closed then and if they said anything else, we didn't hear them.

"Ready for the Reaping, boys," says Mr. Cane who owns the only pick-up truck in our little cluster of houses. He's got a sixteen year old daughter, and he drives me and my brothers and the four neighbors of Reaping age.

"As ready as we'll ever be," I tell him.

"Well, I've yet to come back with less kids than I took," he tells us. "So hope on in the back, and we'll get going."

I toss Rye up in the bed, and the oldest neighbor boy helps him as he stumbles a little. I climb up and put a hand down for Agro to pull himself up. It's a pretty high step and a little to big for his bad leg to handle.

As soon as Agro up, Mr. Cane starts up the truck, and we're rolling towards town. Meryl Cane is in the front with her father, so it's us seven boys in the back. The truck's making a racket, and none of us really feel the need to talk.

The youngest neighbor boy is Rye's age, and he's pale white and shaking. One of his brothers puts an arm around him, and I instinctively do the same to Rye. I feel Agro's arm hit mine, and I give a weak smile as I realize we just did the same thing.

I see Meryl look back at us, and I can't help but thinking of Eve. Her father collects our harvest, so he owns his own truck. I'd bet Eve is at the square already, and I'm quite nervous to see her – more nervous than I am for the Reaping actually.

Me and Eve have been dating for the last couple years, and I know both our parents are expecting us to get married when we turn nineteen. But she's changed the last couple times I've seen her, and I don't like it. She's more pristine and ladylike now, and I liked the Eve who would climb up our silos to be closer to the stars and go swimming in the small creek with barely any clothes. I liked her wild and natural, but she's not anymore. I've got to tell her this, but it'll break her heart.

I watch the fields that speed by and think about how we used to run in them. She'd have dried stalks sticking of her hair, and she wouldn't let me pull them out until I distracted her with kisses.

Those were real kisses, but they aren't anymore, and I can't keep faking them. I'd tell her after the Reaping and maybe still being alive would override whatever hatred she'd have for me.

Soon the wheat fields are gone, and Mr. Crane slows the truck down as we reach the place that acts as our central town. There are people milling about, and you can see children covered with dust who had to walk the several miles into town today.

"Out you go, kidos," he shouts to us in the back. "I'll be expecting all of you back here an hour after the Reaping is finished. Celebrate being alive and enjoy your time in town."

"We will," says the oldest neighbor boy, " and thanks for the ride again, Mr. Crane."

"Thanks for the ride," we all repeat as we jump out the back. Meryl gives her father a quick kiss on the cheek, and she jumps out of the truck and is soon lost in the crowd. I look around for Eve, but I can't see her let alone anyone else I know.

"Let's get Rye to the Reaping area," I suggest to Agro, and he nods in response.

Together we push through the crowds until we're in front of the Peacekeepers. Agro pushes Rye forward, but he refuses to take a step closer. I'm pretty sure I can see the Peacekeeper rolling their eyes under that white helmet.

"Well, little bro," says Agro, "just follow what I do. Hayseed will be right behind you."

Agro marches up to the Peacekeeper – who could be the same one who crippled him for all we know – and sticks out his finger from them to collect blood.

"Agro Knox," he says, and the Peacekeeper motions him forward. He goes just behind them and waits.

"Go," I whisper to Rye, "it doesn't hurt anymore than getting a splinter."

"Next," shouts the Peacekeeper, obviously getting a little impatient.

"Go on, Rye," I say, pushing him forward. I'm a little proud how he doesn't wince when they take his blood and his voice doesn't shake when he says his name.

"Next," shouts the Peacekeeper again, and I let him take my blood.

"Hayseed Knox," I tell him and get motioned forward. I go join Agro where he's now standing with Rye. I scan the area once more for Eve, but I still don't see her.

"Agro's going to be in the front," I tell Rye, "and I'll be somewhere in the middle with the sixteen year olds. You're going to be in the back. No one's going to be able to see you back there, and you'll be safe. When they dismiss us, stay here, and we'll come and get you. Okay?"

Rye nods quickly and throws himself in my arms. Agro wraps his arms around the two of us and for a second, everything in the world is beautiful. But too soon, Agro pulls away. He ruffles Rye's hair, and then walks to join the eighteen year olds. I give Rye a kiss on the forehead and leave him too. I just hope he follows what I said, so I don't have to go looking for him afterward.

* * *

**Barley Rogan – District 9 Female**

* * *

My brothers are all on the other side of the square, and I try to find a friendly face among the girls. I crane my head, but I don't see anyone.

"Barley!" I hear someone shout. Looking around, I finally see Cilia standing in the thirteen year old section. I quickly jog over to her and give her a small hug.

"How are you doing?" I ask when we break apart. Cilia lives in town, and she helps me with my schoolwork cause I miss so many days working on the farm. As a result, we've kinda became best friends.

"Oh wonderfully," says Cilia, "I love waiting to see if this is finally my year to die. I'm so excited."

I give her a little shove. "That's not even funny to joke about right now. Two people from our District are really going to be sent to their deaths. And it might be us!"

She gives me her wicked smile, and I'm afraid what she's going to say next. I must visibly wince because she laughs.

All the kids around us give the two of us worried stares, and I shove Cilia for bringing all that attention to us.

"I'll try to keep my comments more quiet," she says, still laughing a little. "I forgot I was with the serious Rogan-who-doesn't-like-farming."

"Oh, shut it," I tell her.

And so does the Escort lady who is taping the microphone and demanding attention.

"Welcome, welcome," she says in her comical accident.

"I can't wait to see which one of you gets to die," whispers Cilia in my ear, perfectly mimicking the Capital accident. I laugh despite myself, so I punch her in the side again.

The Escort is now saying something about the video, and it starts playing.

"I hope you all enjoy this video we've been playing for the last twenty-eight years. We at the Capital are too lazy to make a new one," whispers Cilia, and I can't help but laugh again. Cilia can't help but be funny. A couple of the girls around us tell us to be quiet; not because they want to hear the video but because they're afraid of the Peacekeepers.

And somehow, Cilia actually stays quiet – well, as quiet as Cilia can be – through the rest of the video and the Mayor's speech. When the Escort retakes the stage, Cilia mimickes her walk. She flicks her arms at her side, fake falls over, and flashes me the funniest horrified face I've ever seen.

I'm not even nervous as she approaches the girl's Reaping bowl; I'm trying not to laugh. As she puts her hand in the bowl, Cilia whispers that she hopes her nail polish is dry, and a couple more laughs escape me.

"Will Barley Rogan please come to the stage?" says the Escort, and I'm still laughing.

I see the color drain from Cilia's face and the girls around me slowly step away. I stop laughing.

"Barley Rogan," repeats the Escort, "you are our female tribute for District 9. Can I please see your face?"

The blood then drains from my face. That's my name. The Escort called me. I force myself to move to the aisle.

Step. I shouldn't have been laughing. Step. I was going to die. Step. I would never grow up. Step. I would never get to be a teacher. Step. I would never know how my book ended.

* * *

**Hayseed Knox – District 9 Male**

* * *

It's not Eve; she's safe for another year.

But I feel guilty as the girl Barley Rogan finally appears from the thirteen year old section. She's tall for her age and quite skinny, and her face turns pale so quickly I think she's going to pass out. She makes it up on the stage, but she's not going to make it past the bloodbath. She's just a year older than Rye.

"Well aren't you a beautiful young lady," says the Escort, and the girl doesn't say anything. It looks likes she's crying, and I just want the Escort to leave her alone. She's already in a terrible position and drawing anymore attention to her will just make it worse.

"Now it's time to select our brave male tribute to accompany young Barley."

As she sticks her hand into the boy's bowl, and I'm just praying it's not us or the neighbors. Please don't be Rye.

"Hayseed Knox," she calls. And it's not Rye, it's me. "Will Hayseed Knox please come up here?"

The boys slowly part as I make my way towards the stage. I've watched previous Hunger Games, and this is important. I've got to make my steps even and keep my head up; I'm strong.

And then I hear Rye screaming my name behind me. He runs out of the twelve year old section and runs into me. I bend down and give him a hug.

"You promised," he screams, beating me on the back. "You promised, you liar. You're nothing but a lair."

His words hurt, but I'm sure he doesn't realize what he's saying. I see Peacekeepers coming, so I need to get him off me.

I pull him off me and look him in the eyes. "I wasn't lying," I tell him. "We'll all be together again, but it'll just take a little longer. Listen to everything Agro, and Mother, and Father say. Now go back," I say, pushing him away from me and turning back towards the stage.

When I mount the stage and face the crowd again, Rye's still sitting the the center aisle, and it looks like the Peacekeepers will let him sit there.

"Is that your brother?" asks the Escort, probably thinking of all the Capital people glued to their TVs at such a sad, public goodbye.

"Yes," I tell her and refuse to say anything else.

"Do I have any volunteers?" she asks as she is required to do. I find Agro in the front, and he refuses to meet my eye. Not that I expected him to take my place but just maybe he would. Out of the three Knox brothers, I do have the best odds of winning.

"Well then," says the Escort like she was actually expecting someone to volunteer. "Here are your District 9 tributes for the 28th Annual Hunger Games, Barley Rogan and Hayseed Knox."

She pushes us together to shake hands, and I realize Barley had been crying. I feel protective over her already like she could be my younger sister. I'll help her as long as I can, but it'll always be me over her. I have to get back to Rye and Agro and Mother and Father.

* * *

**Barley Rogan – District 9 Female**

* * *

I'm marched into the Justice Building and led to a small room off the main hallway. There's a large couch and a painting on the wall but otherwise it's pretty plain. This was the last time 26 girls from District 9 saw their families; I can't stop the tears that come. We've only ever had one Victor, and I know I'm not going to be the second.

I shouldn't have been laughing at Cilia. The Capital probably saw that I wasn't afraid as I should be, and somehow quickly rigged the Reaping.

So when Cilia is let into the room by two Peacekeepers, I'm so mad at her.

"Why were you making me laugh?" I yell at her as soon as the Peacekeepers leave. "Now the Capital is deciding to punish me, and it's all your fault."

Cilia, who always knows what to say, doesn't have anything. "I – we – um," she stutters. Finally she manages to spit out, "I just hate being so afraid, and I didn't want you to be. Please don't be mad at me. This might be the last time I see you."

And she is so unlike her normal self that I can't help but forgive her. Just the thought of not seeing her again is heartbreaking.

"I'm so sorry," I tell her, running into her arms. "I know it's not your fault; I'm just, I don't know. I can't handle this. I love you so much. You're my best friend ever."

I didn't realize I started crying again, but I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. She's crying too, and we're both a mess.

"You're the best friend anyone could ask for," she tells me. "I'll name my first daughter after you and tell her what an amazing person you were."

I just nod and start crying even more as I realize my best friend doesn't even expect me to come home. I'm going to die.

The two of us are still holding each other crying when the Peacekeepers come in.

"Time's up," they announce in that monotone voice they all seem to have.

Cilia slowly pulls away. "I'll always remember you," she says. I get one last hug, and the Peacekeepers escort her away.

And as soon as she's gone, Daddy walks in with Harver, Reven, and Maizer. He instantly scoops me up and kisses my forehead.

"No need to cry, girlie," he tells me, setting me down on the couch. "Ye can get back home to us. Remember, you're not a little girlie no more but a big one."

"No, Daddy," I sob into his chest, "I'm going to die, and this is the last time you're going to see me."

I feel the couch move beside me, and one of my brothers wraps his arm around me.

"You're not going to die," says Reven. "You've gone on all those adventures with them strange book characters. And you're so smart. The other tributes will never see ye coming, and that'll be your advantage."

"But I can't kill somebody," I scream at him. For some reason, I want him to except that I'm going to die. They can't ask me to fight."

"You've got to fight," says Maizer – and I guess they can. "Maybe you don't have to kill anyone, but you have to outlast them. You have to be stronger than they are."

But I'm not stronger, so I keep crying. And I think all four of them give up because they just hold me close and let me cry.

When the Peacekeepers come to kick them out, they each give me a kiss on the forehead and a quick hug. Surprisingly, Harver is the last one in the room with me.

He gives me a kiss like the rest, but he also whispers in my ear:

"Be strong, Barley. I couldn't bear to loose my baby sister."

And then he's gone too. But he had more effect on me than anyone else. Maybe because I though he hated me, but he still wants me back.

I wipe my eyes dry on my sleeve. I guess I should at least try a little for my family.

* * *

**Hayseed Knox – District 9 Male**

* * *

My family enters the room first. Rye immediately runs towards me and latches right on. I put him on my lap and just let his head rest on my chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't-" starts Agro, and I wave him off. He has no reason to apologize; it was his last Reaping, and he'd have little chance of surviving.

"You can do it," says my mother, sitting beside me. "You're strong from working all day, and I know you're smart. You can come home to us."

I gulp because I do have a chance, but it's going to require 23 dead kids.

"Hayseed already promised me he was coming home," says Rye, choosing that moment to pick his head up. "He _promised_ me."

"I'd guess he'd better keep that promise," says my father solemnly.

"He will," shouts Rye. "I already told you. He promised me he'd come back home."

Agro just looks at me, and he's knows the odds are not in my favor. "He'll do everything he can to keep that promise," Agro tells Rye, but he's looking directly at me. "Won't you, Hayseed?"

"You know I would, Agro," I tell him. Then I turn to speak directly to Rye. "You can't be scared by anything you see on the TV," I tell him. "I might not look like myself, but I'm doing everything so I can return to you."

Rye nods, and I give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I'll try to learn as much as I can," I tell my mother. "You have to know I'll try my best."

She gives me an awkward hug with Rye still on my lap. "That's all we'll ever expect from you," she says, and I understand the double meaning of her words.

"I know you will, son," says my father. "Come back for your family. You know we need you."

Mother picks Rye off my lap, so I can stand and give Father a hug. When Agro moves to give me a hug, I have to will myself not to cry though a couple tears still leak through.

When the Peacekeepers come back, my family is done with goodbyes. I know Mother, Father, and Agro don't want to break down in front of Rye, and I'm sure they're awfully close. Mother gives me a final hug, and Father slaps me on the back – I can see tears forming in his eyes as he tries to blink them away. I have to promise Rye one more time that I'll be back home before he's willing to leave me.

I take a deep breath when the door closes. These next couple weeks are going to be terrible.

When the door opens again, Eve runs in. I can see fresh tears running down her face. She looks devastated, and I'm ashamed to admit that I completely forgot about her since my Reaping.

"I can't believe you got Reaped," she says as she wraps her arms around me.

"Me neither," I say, feeling awkward about thinking of breaking up with her earlier. I can't do that now.

"I wanted to marry you," she tells me, kissing me on the nose. "We'd have beautiful kids with your blue eyes and my honey hair. But now," and she can't finish as she starts crying again.

I kiss her, and it's sloppy with her tears. She kisses me back with such desperation, and I run my fingers through her hair. When we pull apart, we're both breathing heavy, but at least she's stopped crying.

"I've promised my family I'd do my best to come home," I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers, "and I'll make you the same promise."

"I'll try to collect money from sponsors," she tells me. "I'll do anything to help you get back to me."

"Will you help Rye?" I ask her. "He'll need someone to hold when things get -"

And I can't seem to finish because I don't what will happen. I don't even know if I'll be alive after the first day.

But Eve just kisses me. "I'll try my best to help him," she says.

"Thank you," I tell her and kiss her again. I press her against me as I try to remember how exactly this moment feels. Right now she's my old Eve, and I love her all over again. I don't want to say it and I hate even thinking it, but this could be the last time I ever see her.

When we break apart, she reaches to unclasp her necklace. She's having trouble, so I spin her around and unclasp it myself.

"I want you to have it," she says, pressing it into my palm. "Bring it as your token and let it remind you of everything you have at home."

I look at the tiny corn doll on the golden chain, and I can't stop the tears that escape the corners of my eyes. It's the doll I made her the first time we meet. I told her I could make the smallest corn dolls in District 9, and she didn't believe me. The one I made that day I gave to her, and I guess she kept it.

I let her put it around my neck, and it's comforting feeling it rest on my chest. I wrap her in a tight hug as more tears fall down my face.

When the Peacekeeper finally comes to pull us apart, my face is red and puffy. She's blows me as kiss as the door closes, and I hold the corn doll tightly in my fist.

I might never see any of them again. But maybe I can, so I have to try.

* * *

**Let me know what you think of our District 9 tributes. How do you think Hayseed and Barley are going to do or how do you want them to do? **

**REVIEW and let me know!**


	4. District 1 Reaping

**I also need only one more tribute, a District 6 Male, until I can close my SYOT. The Reapings should be able to go in order now because hopefully I'll get my last tribute soon.**

**I won't be putting them in the correct order until all 12 are posted. I want the links in the story updates to send my followers to the correct chapter.**

* * *

**District 1 Reaping**

* * *

**Emerald Clinton – District 1 Female**

* * *

The alarm clock beside my bed goes off. It's one of the new ones from District 3. Not only does it say it's the wonderfully late time of eight o'clock, but it also says it's sunny and 80 degrees Fahrenheit and it's the most anticipated day of my life; on the bottom of the screen in bright red letters in reads:

"REAPING DAY - 28th HUNGER GAMES".

It's the day I've been waiting for since I was 10. Last year, Sapphire won and this year it'll be Emerald. No two tributes from the same district have ever won two years straight, but that just means I can still be the first. All gemstones have sharp edges, and I can't wait to show everyone mine.

I throw on some ratty jeans and a t-shirt from my hamper. My hair doesn't look too messy from sleeping, so I don't bother to do anything to it. They'll style at the training center for me anyway. District 1 has a reputation for perfection, and there's no way they'd let me be anything but.

I start walking down the stairs when my hand flies to my neck. My necklace. I didn't put on my necklace. I can't believe I was so stupid to almost forget it.

"Great going," I whisper to myself as I go back to my room. "Forget something you put on everyday. What's next, forgetting what side of a sword to stick in somebody."

And I see it as soon as I enter my room. It's just sitting on my dresser. I hastily grab it and throw it around my neck. It's just a simple emerald pendant that apparently belonged to my grandmother on my father's side. Her name was Emerald too, and I would have been named after her no matter what, so I'm pretty lucky my eyes turned out to be green.

I'm about to head downstairs when I look at my window. I could easily jump onto the lower roof and reach the ground from there. I wouldn't have to go through the kitchen and see my parents doing the boring, mundane things they do every morning.

I take a step towards the window, but I stop. This will be the last time my parents see me when I'm actually dressed like myself. I guess I can deal with them one last time.

And when I get downstairs, I kinda regret my decision. My parents are sitting at the kitchen table. My mom's holding her Capital fashion magazine, and it looks like my dad is going over the shop finances – so a normal, boring morning.

I grab an apple off the counter, and I'm about to slip out the door – hopefully unnoticed - when my mother's voice stops me.

"Honey," she says, knowing full well that I hate being called that. "Where are you going? You must know it's Reaping day."

How stupid does my mother think I am? Of course I know it's Reaping day, and she knows I'm going to volunteer. I've literally told her my plan a million times, but she always seems to forget. I should have gone through the window.

"I'm going where I go everyday," I tell her, rolling my eyes. "You know, the training academy. That giant place a couple blocks away where I train for, you know, the Hunger Games."

I see my mother slowly nod, and I wonder how stupid she could possibly be. And then she opens her mouth, and I realize she could be a lot stupider.

"I thought you'd be having-" she starts but my father cuts her off.

"You know she has to get ready," he tells her.

"Oh right," says my mother, probably now remembering all the times I explained how today would go. "Well, have fun. Me and your father will see you later."

"Unfortunately," I mutter under my breath as I leave the house. A house that looks exactly like the 100 others in the neighborhood. A house that holds a blonde haired jewelry merchant and his blonde haired wife and their blonde haired children who go to school and will one day live in a house just like this with their blonde haired spouse and have their own blonde haired children, and the cycle will just continue.

Volunteering is going to save me from this endless cycle. I'll either be dead, or I'll be a Victor. No one makes a Victor marry some jewelry merchant and have children and keep a house. They get their own house and make their own rules. I won't be just another blonde haired wife with too much jewelry; I'll be Emerald Clinton, Victor of the 28th Hunger Games.

* * *

**Glitz Goldstone – District 1 Male**

* * *

WHACK!

"Glitz, are really going to do this?"

SLAM!

"There's got to be another way!"

KICK!

"One that doesn't involve the possibility of you not coming home."

PUNCH!

"Come on, Glitz. At least acknowledge me over here."

So I stop beating up the dummy in that training center and look at my boyfriend, Clark, who's sitting on the side of the gym. I put my hands in the position that means 'what the hell do you want from me?'.

"I just want to talk to you," says Clark, getting up and walking towards me. "You've been so distant these last couple weeks, and I'm worried for you."

I have been distant but I'm about to go into a contest where you fight to the death. I think I'm allowed to be a little distant. And I tell that to Clark, but he doesn't laugh like I expected him to.

"I don't want you to volunteer today," he tells me, wrapping his arms around my neck. I'm definitely a little sweaty, but he doesn't move away. "I want you to stay here with me and celebrate never having to attend another Reaping."

"You know I can't do that anymore," I tell him, pulling away and facing the wall – I can't really bare to face him. "The Academy chose me as the volunteer weeks ago. If I backed out, I'd – we'd never be able to live with that dishonor."

"I know, I know," says Clark. "I just can't -," and he doesn't finish, but I know what he's going to say.

"I plan on coming home," I tell him, finally gathering myself enough to face him. "And not in some wooden box. It really doesn't sound too comfortable all cramped up in there."

Clark's practically shaking now. "How can you even think of joking right now?" he asks me, his volume rising, and I'm glad it's just the two of us in here. "You're talking about volunteering for a fight to the death and coming home dead! I'm literally terrified for you!"

"I'm terrified too," I tell him, grabbing him by the shoulders, "but I can't afford to be. Let me make my jokes cause it keeps me from running away from all of this."

"Make all the jokes you want," he tells me, "but I won't be laughing until you come home to me."

He sees the look on my face, and I think he sees another joke about cramped coffins coming because he adds, "Alive."

I give him a quick kiss to comfort him. "I swear I'll be coming home alive. We can get married at the end of my Victory Tour, and no one will stop us."

"You know, I'm going to hold you to that promise," he says.

"And you can count on me keeping it. Nothing is going to stop me from coming home to you," I swear to him.

"Maybe I should remind you of everything you've got to live for," he says, placing his hands on my chest. My heart is pounding like I just finished a workout – which I kinda just did - as his lips slowly capture mine.

I move to deepen the kiss when the Academy bell rings. Quickly I spring away from him.

"Shit," I say, feeling really sheepish. "I've got to go and let the people put makeup and stuff on me. You know, gotta look _District 1 quality_ for the Reaping."

"Then go," says Clark. I can just tell he doesn't want me to go. This will be the last time I really see him. During the Reapings, we'll have to be purely friendly. We'll have the goodbyes, but they're really too short.

So I stall like he wants me to.

"I don't want to face the annoying ladies they choose to do this," I tell him. "Oh, you're Glitz. The gay one?" I spit out, mimicking what the ladies will say in their squeaky high-pitched voices, "then why are you complaining? Shouldn't you like this?"

I finally get a laugh from Clark, and it's lifts some weight off my chest.

"It's like they think just because you like guys, you're exactly like a girl," says Clark, chuckling a little to himself at the absurdity of the whole thing. "I mean, you're still a guy."

"And I'm going to show them," I say determinedly.

"Yes you will," agrees Clark, giving me a peck on the cheek. "Now you'd really better go cause that looks like Emerald in the doorway."

And sure enough in the doorway is my district partner, Emerald, looking like she wants to kill me already for being late.

I give Clark a long kiss and leave him standing in the gym. I don't want to keep Emerald waiting if we're going to be allies for the next couple weeks.

* * *

**Emerald Clinton – District 1 Female**

* * *

Glitz scampers over to me after making out with his boyfriend.

"How's my darling district partner?" he asks with an annoying smile on his face.

"Your darling district partner was tired of listening to some random jewelry merchants wives talk about fashion and went to find you," I spit back at him.

"Well," he says, starting to walk towards the prep area, "if I knew we were going to be talking about fashion, I'd have said goodbye to Clark a lot quicker."

I just stare at him, and I can't quite tell if he's kidding or being completely serious. Deciding that he's not worth my time anymore, I just ignore him. If the merchants wives talk to him instead of me, going to find him will have been worth it.

When we finally make it to the room, the ladies are fretting and scrambling all over the place.

"Oh Em," says one of the ladies, "you took so much longer than we expected to find Glitz. And your hair is such a mess. We're going to have to work so quickly. "

"Emerald," I tell her.

"What?" she asks, confused now that she's hearing something other than her own annoying voice.

"My name's Emerald not Em," I tell her, keeping my voice dangerously calm. I stare at her until she gets a little fidgety. I can hear Glitz laughing from somewhere behind me.

"Then Emerald," she says, "why don't you sit down and let us do your hair? It's going to take us a long, long time to get it in any shape for the Reaping."

I let them put me in a chair and put wonderfully smelling but disgusting goop in my hair. All they talk about is what's the latest fashion in the Capital and what Reaping hairstyle is going to get me to win the Games.

I literally have to dig my nails into the arm of the chair to stop myself from digging them into the ladies' throats. My hairstyle isn't going to matter when I'm in the arena. None of their nonsense is going to matter in a few weeks.

There's an exceptionally hard tug at the back of my head, and I turn around and hiss at the lady responsible. She gives a little squeak and accidentally throws the brush across the room. "Oh my," I hear one of the ladies working on Glitz say.

Glitz just looks at me with the most bored-tired-annoyed expression you can imagine. I can't help but make a face back at him. Then I remember that in a couple weeks both of us can't be alive, so I turn my expression into a scowl. He just an ally not a friend.

After my hair, it's makeup. And I vow that when I'm Victor, I'm not going to let anyone put anything that close to my eyes again. Glitz too is having a rough time convincing the ladies that he doesn't need makeup.

"I'm trained to kill people," I hear him shout, "not trained to look pretty."

Some useless chattering from the ladies and a couple more shouts from Glitz.

I get stuff put on my eyes and some powdery substance on my cheeks. 'To make me look young and healthy', they say. I want to tell them that I don't need makeup to do that because I am young and healthy, but that's probably beyond their mental capacity so I keep quiet.

Soon they must decide I look acceptable because they push me into the locker room and hand me a dress. It's emerald green; how original.

I'll hand it to the Academy though, it's a really nice dress. It only goes mid thigh and does a wonderful good of showing off my calves. It has sleeves though it's really more sheer emerald fabric that wraps around my wrist. As I look in the mirror, I realize I'm mesmerizing. The stupid ladies didn't put so much makeup on that I look fake, and the dress isn't so fancy that it looks Capital. I just look like the typical District 1 tribute; beautiful and strong.

* * *

**Glitz Goldstone – District 1 Male**

* * *

The Academy sends me off to the square in dark black jeans and a button down blue shirt. Since technically we aren't supposed to be training, I need to look pretty casual. Whatever, I could care less what I'm wearing. It's the little bit of makeup I have on that's bugging me. It's not too noticeable but still.

I'm volunteering because ever since I came out as gay, I've been treated as less than a man. And I'm not. I'm just as capable as every other man and just because I happen to like men too doesn't mean anything. Emerald's pretty good at pretending that me being gay doesn't bug her; I'm pretty sure it's the fact that she's seen me train. And I'm going to show everyone that side of me.

When I get to the Justice Building, there's already a lot of kids milling about. I recognize a couple from the Academy but most I don't.

I see a group of older boys point at me and start laughing. My blood literally starts to boil, and I have to dig my nails into my palm to stop myself from going over there. Any other day I wouldn't hesitate to knock them around a bit – it's actually encouraged at the Academy – but not today. Today I have to be the perfect District 1 gentleman. So I content myself with staring at them until they look away.

I see Clark make his way towards the eighteen year old section, and I'm relieved that he doesn't make any move to come towards me. We'd have to be purely friendly, and I don't think I could manage that when all I want to do is feel his body pressed against mine like it might be the last time.

He smiles at me but nothing more. I nod back, and I'm all the more enraged that the rules of our District won't let us be together. I'm going to show the Capital and force them to change it. This is going to be that day.

I'm practically shaking with excitement and nerves when Maybelline Sephoria, our Escort, comes on stage. She looks absolutely ridiculous in a silver wig and a dress that looks like it's completely made of jewels.

"Hello District 1," she calls and most of the district cheers. I don't cheer. Out of the corner of my eye, I don't see Emerald cheering either; she's just got a twisted smile on her face and an eager look in her eyes.

"The Capital has provided you with a video to watch," she says and the normal Reaping video starts to play.

They show a scene of the battle in District 1, and the eventual defeat of the rebels by the Capital's force of Peacekeepers. We like to pretend we didn't side with the rebels, but we did and watching this video makes most the citizens strive harder to please the Capital to make up for what they consider the biggest mistake District 1 ever made.

We then see the only view we get of the other Districts as the video rolls on. We see the ashes of District 13 and then the video shuts off.

"That was a wonderful video, wasn't it?" gushes Maybelline. The square is uncharacteristically quiet because it's not a wonderful video. But Maybelline ignores our silence and moves on. "Let's get right to picking our tributes, shall we?" And she gets the cheers she was waiting for because we're a Career district .

She walks slowly over to the girls' bowl and picks a slip. She very slowly opens it like the suspense is going to kill us, but really, there is no suspense at all.

"Our female tribute is -," she announces before Emerald interrupts her.

"I volunteer," she shouts, walking up to the stage. And I have to admit, she looks like a competitor. The dress they put in her in makes her look hot – and just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't notice things like that – and you can see the confidence in her step.

When she turns around on the stage, I see her look directly at me. Her eyes seem to say 'can you do better than that?'. And damn well I'm going to try.

* * *

**Emerald Clinton – District 1 Female**

* * *

I see Glitz return my look, and I smile at myself. Let's go.

"What's your name, darling?" asks Maybelline.

"Emerald Clinton," I tell her, trying not to wince at being called darling.

"Oh, like your dress," she says smiling. And she's no better than the entire female half of the district. Yes, my dress and name are the same color; my necklace and eyes are too, you idiot.

She stays there smiling, so I nod and try to copy her stupid smile. It seems to make her happy cause she bounces over the the boys' bowl.

"Let's find out who will be joining lovely Emerald up here on this stage," she says as she reaches into the bowl.

Before she even grabs a slip, Glitz shouts out, "I volunteer."

And I have to admit, he looks good strutting to the stage. The Academy picked the right outfit for him that shows off his muscles. Who cares if he's gay; District 1 has a stunning pair this year. We'll be sure to get sponsors.

I can see a real smile on Maybelline's face, and I'm sure she knows the two of us are promising.

"What's your name, handsome," she asks flirtatiously.

I have to hold back a smile as Glitz winces at her attempts to hit on him. He doesn't make eye contact with her and instead looks past her and looks at me. I bite my tongue to stop from laughing at the pitiful expression he's making.

"Glitz Goldstone," he tells her, now turning to look into the square and into the cameras that are out there somewhere.

"Well, well, well," says Maybelline clapping lightly, " don't we have gorgeous and strong tributes from District 1 this year. Let's wish Emerald Clinton and Glitz Goldstone the best of luck as District 1's tributes for the 28th Hunger Games."

And there's finally some cheering. I shake Glitz's hand and give the square one quick wave – no girly wave but more of a salute– and let the Peacekeeper's take me away.

Both of us are silent until we hear the doors of the Justice Building close behind us. I see Glitz visibly relax, and I'm my shoulders loosen too. Nothing in here will be broadcast so we can relax our acts a little.

"The Capital is just going to love us," says Glitz who moves to walk beside me. "The idea of having two Victors from the same district from consecutive years is going to make us favorites."

I smirk noticing that he never mentioned which one of us would be the Victor. "We're definitely going to have to play that up so one of us can come home," I tell him, not making eye contact and keeping my body facing straight down the hall. And that one is going to be me.

* * *

**Glitz Goldstone – District 1 Male**

* * *

"Yes, we will," I agree with Emerald. And this conversation is getting way to serious for me. Thank goodness the Peacekeepers shove us into our respective rooms for goodbyes.

I barely have time to sit down on the couch when both my parents enter the room.

"How's my boy doing?" asks my dad, throwing himself on the couch beside me and wrapping his arm over my shoulders.

"Pretty well, Dad," I tell him.

"Just remember that we love you," says my mom as she sits on my other side. "We're always going to be cheering for you no matter what happens."

I smile because my parents have always been there for me. They've always been at my side. They defended me when I came out as gay and supported my decision to start training for the Games. I need to win to come home to Clark, but I also need to win to show my parents that I'm appreciative of everything they've done for me.

"I'll remember," I tell them.

My dad gives me a pat on the back and gets up. "You know what you're doing, Glitz," he tells me, "and don't forget it. Do what you have to do."

My mom gets up too and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "We know you'll do everything to come home, and we know you can win."

I give them both a hug as they leave the room.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," they wish me as they leave and the doors shuts behind them.

I run my fingers through my hair to get rid of all my nervous energy. I know they expect me to win, and I know I can but it's still not that easy. I'll have to beat Emerald and the four other Careers plus the couple random outer district tributes who always put up a fight.

"Nervous?" asks Clark from the doorway.

And as nervous as I think I am, he looks a million times worse. His face is puffy like he's been crying, and he has to wipe his nose on his sleeve.

I want to desperately make a joke about his condition, but I can't seem to. I just go up to him and wrap my arms around him. Feeling his chest move against mine and hearing his heart beat is soothing. He seems to relax in my arms.

"You-" he starts, but I stop him.

"No words," I tell him, "I just want to feel you against me so I can remember this forever."

He nods and lets me run my fingers across his face and through his hair. I press my lips to his collarbone and his forehead and his poor runny nose and eventually his lips. When our lips part, I cling to him.

I hear the knocking on the door that means the Peacekeepers are telling us to hurry up.

"I love you," I tell him, pressing our foreheads together and letting our breath mingle. "I'll do everything to come home."

"I love you too," he tells me, pulling me into a deep kiss. "And I know you will."

The Peacekeeper opens the door then, and I let Clark slowly detach himself from me. There's an absence where he was as the cold air reaches my body. I take a deep breath, smile, blow him a kiss, and wink. He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes and I know his smiles won't until I'm safe at home again.

And he'll smile again. I'm going to make sure of it.

* * *

**Emerald Clinton – District 1 Female**

* * *

My parents stand awkwardly in the doorway. I really won't have cared if they didn't come at all; actually, that would've been so much easier. There is really no nice way to say that I volunteered so I wouldn't become anything like you.

"You don't have to worry," I tell them. "I'm going to win."

My father nods, but my mother just stands there. There's a silence as no one really knows what to say.

"You don't need to say goodbye or anything," I say because I want them to leave. "I'll be fine without it."

This time my mother nods and starts to leave. My father grabs her arms and motions with his head over to me. Oh great, she's going to try to say goodbye like she understands.

My mother puts her arm on my shoulder. "I just want to wish you favorable odds," she says. "We might not have been close, but you're my daughter, and I want you to come home."

I nod, just wishing the Peacekeepers would come and get me out of this awkward situation.

Eventually they come, and I'm not sad to see my parents leave.

Another Peacekeeper comes in after they leave.

"Miss Clinton," he says, "you've got no other visitors. Do you really have no one else to say goodbye to?"

I bristle at his statement. I don't care that he's implying that I have no friends, but how dare he anyway. I snarl at him a little.

"I told them not to come," I lie to him. "I don't see a point in these goodbyes."

"In the outer districts, this is the last time most of the kids will see their family," he tells me, and I don't know why he thinks I care. "My brother was chosen for the 25th Games, and I never saw him again. Just because you're a Career doesn't mean you're guaranteed to win."

I just look at him incredulously.

"Private Mason," I hear another Peacekeeper shout, and I see mine give a little a jump. He salutes who I guess is his commander. "You were supposed to escort Miss Clinton to the train not engage in conversation."

"Sorry sir," he says sounding a little cheeky, "I'll be doing that now."

"Do it silently," commands the other Peacekeeper who proceeds down the hallway.

Private Mason hastily salutes the retreating the officer and smiles at me. "Well Miss Clinton, we probably should get going."

He puts his arm out for me to take, but I ignore it and fall into step beside him. I wasn't some jewelry merchant's wife who let the men led me. I was Emerald Clinton, Career tribute from District 1.

* * *

**I had some trouble writing both Emerald and Glitz. They were both given such similar personalities that I had to change them a little so they weren't just the male and female versions of the same character. **

**Also, Private Mason just randomly appeared while I was writing, but don't forget about him. He might have a role to play later on based on something someone gave me on a tribute form.**

**So, thoughts on Emerald and Glitz? You've meet our District 4 Careers already, so how to you think the Career alliance is looking. Will one of them be able to snatch victory? Let me know what you think.**


End file.
